FOURTEENTH ANNUAL YEAR BOOK— PART X. 695 

 SAVING OUR GREATEST CROP. 



HOW THE CAMPAIGN TO PUT BABIES ALONGSIDE HOGS AND HORSES WAS BEGUN 



AND IS BEING CAKRIED ON TO SUCCESS AT VARIOUS GRAIN 



BELT STATE FAIRS. 



(Iowa Homestead.) 



A sweet-faced, white-haired country woman walked out from the 

 Western Live Stock Show at Denver last winter, gave her hair a few 

 deft pats, breathed a tired sigh and wasted just enough energy to whis- 

 per to her companions, "I feel as if I were the center of a whirlwind that 

 bids fair to take me off my feet." Saying which, she hurried to the 

 depot, took a fast train to the capital of Iowa and, having plodded 

 wearily up the long hill to the state house, fairly swept the staid legis- 

 lators off their feet with the enthusiasm with which she pleaded for a 

 $75,000 appropriation for a new building on the state fair grounds. 



For the first few minutes the legislators were only idly interested. 

 Then a mild sort of curiosity began to manifest itself as to what sort 

 of a building this little gray lady was demanding. They had made ap- 

 propriations for swine, horses, cattle and sheep; perfectly good state 

 money had been expended for the housing of everything from acorns 

 to zebras, "from agate to zinc." If there was any crop grown in Iowa for 

 which ample provision had not been made, either for exhibition booths 

 or competition premiums, they would like to know what it was. Ac- 

 cordingly, they sat up with anticipated triumph aglow on their faces as 

 one of their number asked the little country woman what she had in 

 mind when she spoke of Iowa's greatest crop, as yet altogether unrecog- 

 nized by the generous state. 



A smile played about the lips of the animated and feminine whirl- 

 wind vortex with the sweet face and white hair as she murmured one 

 word only: 

 "Babies!" 



The story with which this amazing and unexpected reply was fol- 

 lowed gave the legislators an inkling of the big things concealed by 

 the little answer. 



At the 1911 Iowa State Fair, for the first time in any state, a babies' 

 health contest was held, under the direction of energetic and charitably 

 inclined doctors and club women. A country mother came with her two- 

 year-old baby in tow. He was a sweet little fellow, with an ever-ready 

 smile and his fond mother had pictured to herself, all the way as she 

 drove in from the farm, how he was bound to eclipse all the other entries 

 and win first prize. Was not his hair silkier and browner; were not his 

 eyes a heavenly shade of blue; were not his cheeks perfect ovals? But 

 when the kindly doctors had stripped the little lad, felt of his muscles, 

 peered down his throat, thumped his chest and. otherwise determined his 

 fine physical points, as carefully and as systematically as the live stock 

 judges went about their work in the handsome and permanent pavilions 

 adjoining the humble little tent where the babies were herded, they 

 shook their heads and passed down the line to the next entry. The in- 



